


House of Wolves (and Pandas)

by orphan_account



Series: Lullabye [21]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Prompt Fic, ageshifting, me finally getting off my ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 12:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6424897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: Pete takes baby Patrick to the zoo to look at the pandas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	House of Wolves (and Pandas)

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I'm super sorry for not posting this sooner, it's kind of just because of general mess in my life... i want to encourage everyone to send prompts etc. to my tumblr for a ficlet there, and i'm taking requests for anything not just this verse. it's a lot easier for me and just works better, plus you guys can chat to me and stuff too (saverockandsoulpvnk.tumblr.com) and i've written a few things on there already. It's easier for me to get motivated for ficlets i can write in one sitting, so there will be more regularly (hopefully!) I'll still be posting in the verse here but a lot less frequently, focussing on my long fics. Thanks for reading and all the support, i love you all so much!

There was a flier for Chicago Zoo inside Pete's laptop. Being the wonder of perception that he was, he immediately understood the meaning of it without even having to ask Patrick. He cleared his schedule (not that it wasn't basically empty) for Saturday and didn't even mention it, hoping he'd be able to keep it a surprise.

 

On Thursday, Patrick managed to slip subtly into the conversation the fact that some red pandas had just arrived at Chicago Zoo - and Pete managed to just grin secretively and tell Patrick he already _had_ a panda. At that, Patrick rolled his eyes; he let Pete hold him around the waist and kiss him enthusiastically. Until Pete tried to lick into Patrick's mouth, which Patrick decided wasn't kitchen friendly.

"Why else do we have our own house, baby?" Pete whined, but Patrick just frowned at being called _baby_ and squeezed Pete's hip playfully before he disappeared. Huffing, Pete went back to his laptop, on the kitchen table. So far, all a major label deal seemed to mean was more goddamn _emails_.

He opened one - it was a notification about a comment on Livejournal, and when he went to the page, there were about ten comments in total, aside from the original, which had triggered the email and read _hey pete i love you!! i just wanted to ask is Patrick doing okay??? he never posts on here and sometimes he looks sad._

 _he could never do less than awesome in my opinion,_ Pete typed, _but yea i no it is hard 2 believe such a magical creature feels emotion. patrick is awesome dont worry we r super in love and he continues to breathe like a little baby when he sleeps next 2 me. he is my princess i love him._

If Patrick weren't oblivious to the existence of _The Internet,_ this would cause a lot of yelling from Patrick at Pete. It isn't as though Pete hasn't graphically described how he plans their for wedding to go to the fans on livejournal. People on the internet hear things differently, taking some things too seriously and being completely oblivious to others.

" _Your shitty band sucks_ ," Pete read the next comment aloud, " _our demo is much better, listen here_." Gleefully, Pete clicked the link, ready to tell this asshole exactly _how_ shitty his band really was and not to quit his day job.

One minute into the first song, the smile was gone from his face: they were _good_. And not in that kind of _oh, I could get used this_ way. In the kind of way that made Pete want to start a record label just to sign them.

The vocalist sounded like a dorky eighteen year old, but probably just because he was, and in spite of it he was _good_. Although, Pete thought as he closed his eyes, they could have a singer as crappy as Pete himself and they'd still be awesome.

But the- Pete had never heard electronic rock that just... _worked_ this way before. He had half a mind to call for Patrick, but Patrick was Mad At Pete and would be even less likely to agree with The Plan that he would usually. Pete wanted Patrick's opinion, but he really, really wanted these dudes, and he already knew how.

 

***

 

Every time Patrick so much as _breathed_ , Pete itched to open his mouth and spill everything. However, that would ruin _the Plan_ , so he managed not to. He came close the time he caught Patrick blinking forlornly at a picture on his laptop of the new red panda cubs just born at Chicago zoo - he slammed the lid quickly when Pete walked in, and blushed anyway.

"I love you so _much_ , babe," Pete noted absently, to counteract his own guilt. It worked well, though: Patrick went bright pink as his face split into a grin and he pushed the laptop away to bury himself in Pete's arms; affectionate in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.

Pete's brain was going _aw aw AW my adorable boyfriend is so cute when are we getting married again shit, I love him so much_ , but he knew that was the kind of thing that got Patrick huffing and shifting away. It was one thing at a time with someone who'd been repressing all their affection for years before their relationship began. Instead, he just kissed Patrick's head gently and held him there until they fell apart and he went back to his laptop.

 

***

 

Patrick had gone out to get groceries, which left Pete alone. He felt distinctly unsettled as he dialled the number given to him by the Livejournal kids, almost like he was cheating, which was stupid, and maybe indicated the importance of music in both their lives.  
"Hello?"  
He could hear two voices, like one person was on the phone and another person, listening in, was repeating it to a wider audience.

"Hey!"  
"Holy shit, it's Pete Wentz!"  
"Shut up, dick, I'm trying to be cool- _hi_ , Pete, what can I do for you?"  
Pete stifled a laugh. "You're the band's manager?"  
The voice on the other line told him that it did in fact belong to the manager, who also happened to be the lead guitarist/songwriter.

Yeah. The conversation wore on; the band - Panic! At the Disco - hadn't actually played _any_ live shows yet. Well, Pete didn't even have a record label to sign them to, just vague plans and the fact that at least one person on Fueled by Ramen was in love with him.

"So you're in Vegas. And you're free this Saturday?"

 

***

 

"It's my favourite little guy," Pete grinned when a tiny someone stumbled out of the bedroom. He had a blanket draped around him, and it was much too big for him and he kept almost falling over it. Wearing the blue onesie Pete changed him into last night when he woke Pete up, like he usually did - if he didn't sleep through the change - he scowled.

"Can we go to the zoo an' see the pandas?" he asked, pulling his thumb out of his mouth when Pete raised an eyebrow warningly.  
"Wow, someone's in a good mood," Pete teased. "But yeah."  
The blanket was dropped and forgotten on the floor as Patrick rushed forward to hop into Pete's lap. " _Really_?"

"Yeah, Tricky," Pete said, and bit his lip. "Um. In Vegas?" He held up a pair of plane tickets and winced.  
Patrick looked thoughtful. All he said was, "You _hate_ flying!"  
Pete agreed. "But I'll have my Ricky to look after me, right love? And there's a big surprise at the zoo there I thought you'd really want to see. Here, I'll make you breakfast. You want cereal?"

Patrick jumped up. He _loved_ cereal. Like, a whole lot.  
"Okay, you have to be good because we have to leave soon, and I have to stop off somewhere before we go to the zoo, all right? You've got like half an hour to get all ready, 'cause I let you sleep in."

He'd had to, really. Seeing Patrick's angelic smile as he slept, eyes fluttering and nose twitching, with his hair haloed on the pillow behind him, was a sight to behold, and not for mere mortals to destroy.

Patrick did _not_ have a problem with spooning down cereal at warp speed, and was still a little out of it when the time came to get dressed, so he just lay back on the bed and let Pete do everything. A blessing in disguise, because because having to lift up sleepy Patrick's surprisingly heavy limbs and juggle clothing and body parts  
was a lot easier than fighting awake Patrick who did _not_ want to wear _that_.

He managed to have them both bundled out the door by nine, forgetting Patrick's car seat and running back up for it not included. While Pete was putting in the CD that Patrick handed him - ruling anything too hardcore out of their shared music taste didn't leave much but, _oh joy_ , white boy funk - Patrick bit his lip.

He had _The Face_ on, like when a puppy's just raided the house while its owner was out and it knows it's in trouble.  
"What, baby?" Pete sighed, bracing himself.

"Um. You know how, normally when we fly, and you get really scared, I like, look after you 'cause I'm not scared? Well I kind of - I've never flown before when I was small but. I mean - except for when I was small the first time, but... I didn't grow out of my fear of flying until I was a teenager."

 

  
***

 

The process up to the flight was more amusing than anything else, looking back. The second they crossed the airport threshold, Pete descended into the barely conscious haze he put himself into in these situations to get through.

Not ideal when handling a small child. He started when Patrick took the hand that wasn't clutching Patrick's for dear life - and being clutched equally tightly back - and put something flat and crinkly into it.  
"For your anxiety," Patrick whispered, "You forgot them at home, so I bringed them."

It was simultaneously heartbreaking and adorable that Patrick remembered, Pete thought, popping a white pill out of the foil. He swallowed one dry, wincing at the burn, and unthinkingly offered the packet to Patrick.  
"I'm _five_!" he cried.  
"Oops, sorry," Pete apologised as Patrick stowed them away safely in his little backpack, and he had maybe never been more full of love.  
"You always look after me."

 

They were probably a bit of a sight,  
both white as sheets as they gripped each other's hands. Patrick regarded everyone who bustled past him with wide, worried eyes, until Pete made the decision to pick him up so he could hug him close to his chest and protect him.  
"You're safe," he murmured, swinging Patrick into the air. "You're okay. I'm here."

 

On the plane they were probably more annoying to everyone else. It was a low-key interstate affair with only one class for all passengers, so hopefully no one noticed Pete Wentz, which they wouldn't unless they were a slightly underground softcore fan, said Patrick, not even slightly fumbling over the phrase _slightly underground softcore._

Usually, Pete loved getting recognised, but he was kind of crying and Patrick was really crying and they were clinging to eachother and whimpering and it was, well, embarrassing. There was a jolt and they both yelped, involuntarily loud. 

"I'm so scared, we're gonna crash and _dieeeeee_ ," Patrick squeaked when the plane started moving, but as always, he was ridiculously considerate and kept his voice low.  
"I _knooooooow_ ," Pete screeched back, trembling.

Once they were in the air and the plane's movement relatively steady, they pulled away and sat breathing heavily. Out of his backpack, Patrick pulled _The Story of Ferdinand_ , and passed the flight distracting them both with his small library of storybooks. Once those were all read through, he drew Pete some pictures on the complimentary flight stationary with full commentary, and then it was time to land and the clinging and whimpering began again.

 

***

 

When they arrived at the small, quirky looking home that fit the description 'well lived in' pretty well, Patrick took the opportunity to thrust himself dramatically to the ground. Pete suddenly wished they'd agreed to meet the band at their practise space rather than go first to the singer's parents house to get acquainted.

A guy with a pierced ear, flat cap, and wannabe Beatles 'do opened the door. This, Pete knew, was Ryan. Ryan was the band's 'manager', guitarist, and songwriter. He looked the kind of nervous that only people who are usually very calm ever get.

"You're Pete," he stated, blinking down at the form splayed on the floor of his bandmate's front yard. The ' _but who the fuck is this_ ' went unsaid. At both of their continued failure to really pay him any attention, Patrick kicked his legs and squirmed into the ground with an infuriated squeal. He moved a chubby hand to put under his head, like he was getting comfortable for a long stay. Pete cringed.

"This is Jack," he lied, gesturing embarrassedly to the collapsed Patrick, "Patrick's cousin? My vocalist Patrick - I think they're cousins, second cousins, maybe. I babysit him a lot, and I couldn't get anyone else to look after him today, so..." Pete nudged Patrick with his foot. "He came on a little road trip with me, didn't you, buddy?"

Ignoring the bait, Patrick shook his head and kicked his feet again. His "yeah," was put upon and barely audible. Ryan blinked. Nervously, Pete scurried to apologise for Patrick. "He's just pretty sleepy, and kind of grumpy. He's grumpy a lot actually, I- ow!" Patrick's hand shot back to his side fast enough that Pete only knew it was him because no one else would pinch Pete Wentz's leg that hard.

"Love you too," he deadpanned, sighing as he scooped up a struggling Patrick and stoically took all of his half-hearted punches. Pete looked pointedly behind Ryan until, still looking quite dazed, he stepped aside and confusedly suggested that they come in.

 

***

 

The band inside looked visibly nervous. Pete was offended to see that they seemed to take in his small stature and relax. "You're smaller in real life," the bassist blurted out.

Patrick narrowed his eyes at the slouching figure. He'd recovered somewhat from his tantrum and was insisting on walking himself, but was still generally being quite a dick for someone with such an endearing face.

"Wow, and Patrick Stump is a lot shorter in real life," joked the guy with the gorgeous blue eyes and chubby cheeks that gave him a soft, enchanting look that clashed majorly with his haircut, which was even _worse_ than Ryan's. Patrick stiffened, and Pete put a protective hand around his waist, holding his hip to prevent him from rushing either forwards or away.

"Yeah, he's Patrick's cousin or something," Ryan put in, nasal voice making him sound more disinterested than he was, "he looks like him, huh?" Both of them relaxed, but Patrick continued to eye the whole band warily, before he collapsed against Pete's side with a wail.  
"I'm tired," he whined, rubbing his eyes with his fists. "I don't like all the people. Can we go home please?" Pete, grabbing Patrick's waist to keep him from sliding to the ground, made an apologetic motion to the other guys.

In Pete's slip of attention, Patrick slipped out of his grip and onto the ground, proceeding to settle, face first, on the tiled floor of a stranger's kitchen. Three members of Panic! at the Disco blinked and looked unsettled. "Um, it's like, his thing. When he gets mad, he lies on the floor," Pete offered, while Patrick thumped his hands angrily on the floor.

Brendon, the one with the red glasses and full lips, came darting forward and crouched next to Patrick.  
"Hey man," he murmured in his squeaky voice, "if you don't get up... you can't have any of our ice cream. Or hear our awesome band!"

Patrick sat up instantly. " _Music_? I mean, uh, yay, ice cream! And, um. Music." He bit his lip and shyly cocked his head. Pete watched a fine, connective line of emotion rum between the two as Patrick smiled trustingly at Brendon.   
"I have a lot of young kids in the family. Mormon," Brendon explained to Pete, who nodded and watched Patrick climb into the arms of this strange teenager and cling there.

"So..." Ryan said awkwardly, "You wanna hear us play?"  
"Um." Pete bit his lip. "I kind of promised Pat- _Jack_ we'd go to the zoo?"

 

***

 

The band was weirdly cool with going to the zoo with a preschooler when they should've been coaxing a record deal out of Pete's non-existent label. Patrick skipped ahead and pointed out all the different birds, while Brendon and Spencer walked either side of him and Brendon chattered happily to him while Spencer watched, amused. Pete had to fight the protective urge to dash forward and carry Patrick far away from these strangers, benevolent or not. 

Ryan seemed the most sane and the most neurotic at the same time, blinking at Patrick as though he was the only one thinking _why am I at the zoo with Pete Wentz and a small child right now?_  
For the sake of some vague normalcy, they chatted about the band and Ryan's musical inspiration (Beatles, Smiths, more Beatles, and interesting Beatles cover band he saw last week, also - have you per chance heard of The Smiths?).

Patrick was perfectly indifferent to some of the animals, wrinkling his nose when Pete stopped to point out the lions, laid across each other in the morning sun. Later, he ran to grab Pete's hand and show him the zebras, explaining in different voices what each zebra was saying, and beaming when Pete did a deep voice and imitated the one who Patrick had decided was _the King Zebra._

Having seen all his favourite animals, aside from The Surprise, Patrick slumped to the grass at the picnic area and declared that he was tired.  
Pete jumped down next him. "Little baby boy's _tired_? You want your bed, huh? Time for baby's _naptime_?" He tickled Patrick's exposed midriff while Patrick wheezed, "I'm not a little baby boy!"

"Yeah you are," Pete singsonged, "Just my _widdle_ baby boooooyy." Then he blew a raspberry into Patrick's pink cheek.  
"Eugh," he squeaked, outraged. "You _spitted_ on me!" He retaliated by licking a stripe up Pete's bare arm. Grimacing, Pete wiped it off - on Patrick's face. Patrick was ready, and grabbed his arm: he struggled to hold on as Pete flailed, but he got a few pinches in.

They continued to play fight like two children instead of one, until Pete sat back on his heels, suddenly remembering the band. They were awkwardly stood around, wondering if the guy on the floor with his leg wrapped constrictingly tight around a five year old's waist was really going to give them a record deal. The bassist had an eyebrow frozen in midair.

Guiltily, Patrick unhooked his teeth from Pete's forearm. "If you're like this with Patrick too then the Stump family must either adore you or hate you," mused Brendon. Ryan, apparently enough of a fan to know, against all odds, nodded seriously. "He is."  
Pete made a hurt sound and looked to Patrick for defence but Patrick was blinking sagely and agreeing.

"You are."

"No but like," Pete half-mouthed, "Like, yknow, _that_ Patrick." Patrick just shrugged and looked innocent, although he was clearly enjoying Pete's suffering, before nodding and agreeing again. Pete was going to scream.

Brushing himself off as he stood up, Pete tried the puppy dog eyes, but Patrick just returned them, sarcastic but much more adorable. He was full of energy and happiness as he hopped to his feet in a smooth movement, even flashing a delighted smile at the members of Panic! at the Disco as he did so. Pete folded his arms. "I _hate_ you. Where'd you even learn to be so sarcastic?"  
"Patrick," Patrick replied. And _winked_. Pete groaned loudly.

 

***

 

Pete was halfway through a mental note that said _never take Patrick anywhere; he is an asshole -_ and considering typing it into his phone, for extra reliability - when a smug looking Ryan appeared.  
" _So_ ," he said carefully. Pete grimaced, already knowing from the look in Ryan's eyes that this would be bad. "I've just been told in no uncertain terms by Stumph junior over there that I better stay away from you - because you're already engaged to a certain short, angry vocalist."

"Pat- Jack! What did you say?" Pete shrieked, catching Patrick from behind and sweeping him into the air. He was so used to holding onto the squirming package in his arms by now that Patrick could see the futility of fighting and barely even tried to resist, just cocked his head to the side.

"Ryan was looking at you funny. You already belong to someone else, so I told him," he said plaintively. Ryan continued to blink in mild alarm. He reminded Pete a little of a loveable mole and Pete had to stop himself before he considered laser eye surgery to make Ryan more blind, requiring glasses, so they could market that whole thing. 

Upgrading the _do not take Patrick anywhere_ memo to super mega urgent, Pete groaned and scrubbed his face. It was hard to concentrate with the sorrowful way Patrick was gazing up at him, but he looked Ryan in the eye and sighed. "I am, yeah. It's complicated... you don't tell _anyone_. Not even the band. I would've told you all in due course but- yeah. I love him. We don't need the Internet finding out about it, though."

Ryan remained silent, thoughtful. Overjoyed and blushing brightly, Patrick dropped a kiss to Pete's cheek and whispered "He loves you too," before he wriggled away.  
"Pretty cute," Ryan said distantly, watching Patrick go right back to Brendon's side and grab onto his hand. Pete hummed in agreement, and he and Ryan plodded on in introspective silence until Pete remembered The Surprise and stopped.

"Hey, Ri- Jack?"  
"Mmhm?" Patrick sang back, detaching himself from Brendon as they stopped.  
"So - you know how you wanted to see the red pandas back in Chicago?" Pete hurried on quickly, before Patrick could get mad again. "Well, they don't have red pandas here."

Pushing his glasses up, Patrick moaned, "Aww, but I was apposed'a-"  
"They've got some other pandas though," he admitted. Patrick stopped, almost dropping Pumpkin, and staring at Pete. Unfortunately, Pete didn't have a camera, but he felt too much like a proud mom announcing this year's Disneyland trip, and wished he did so he could film Patrick's excitement for it and tease him when he was older. The only different was that he'd be older tomorrow, not in a decade.

  
"Are you _serious_?" he yelped and Brendon and Spencer both _aww_ ed. He must've been excited, because he didn't even blink at the fuss, where usually he preened like a proud show cat. His eyes shome and the look in them as he stared at Pete was something he never wanted to lose, unabashed joy and love mingled brightly together, exclusively directed at him. 

"Totally. And you've been so good recently so I thought you deserved to see them." _Nice job Pete, pretending you did this Vegas trip for unselfish reasons._ But he didn't even feel a little guilty if he got such a sweet smile for his efforts.

  
***

  
Patrick Stump was a total asshole. Pete was genuinely fighting the urge to cry because Patrick was looking at the giant pandas Pete went to such an effort to get him to see, looking back at Pete, and chortling loudly.  
" _What_!" Pete demanded, hurt, but Patrick just continued snorting, now with added pointing.

"They look..." he panted, "like _you_!"  
A subconscious hand flew to hover over Pete's abs. He did _not_ look like those enormous and lumbering, albeit adorable, beasts.  
With tears streaming from his eyes, Patrick clung onto Pete's leg with a grin, and indicated a big circle around his eyes.

"You di- ugh, I do not! How could- this is eyeliner, though and it's, like... mine is like, _artfu_ \- Like it. I." Pete protested, mouth opening and closing uselessly a few times, and then wailed incoherently at being likened to a panda by a five year old. A five year old who was cackling madly along with the rest of the band that Pete was supposedly going to sign.

He was about to tell Patrick he couldn't have an ice cream now when, utilising his usual apelike skills, Patrick scaled Pete's legs and planted himself in his arms. "You look really pretty," he said sweetly, pressing a kiss to Pete's cheek and beaming when everyone melted and Pete pressed a kiss to his fluffy mop that _really_ needed cutting. Maybe one day Pete would manage to stop being a mom and just be a boyfriend.

"I really like it. Thanks for taking me to see the pandas."

Patrick wouldn't get out of Pete's arms for the rest of the day, shyness finally catching up with him. They spent a good half hour sat in the viewing booth while Patrick gripped Pete's hand and chattered incoherently about the pandas.

"'nd that one is, uh, eatin' leafs," he mumbled around the thumb Pete didn't have the heart to pull out. "Eatin' all them 'cause he's hungry an' the mommy panda has'a tellim off 'cause..." he stopped to yawn and fell back against Pete's chest.  
Pete scrubbed a hand across his hair gently. "You tired, my little dude?"

Aside from kicking his legs very weakly, Patrick barely protested. Pete's joints protested violently, though, as he stood and went to where the boys were clustered, talking animatedly.  
"Um, Pa- Jack's wiped out, so I think it's time to head out. If you guys have a couch or something at your practise space I can settle him there for a nap and hear you play?"

Everyone but Brent was too busy staring gormlessly at the almost-sleeping Patrick, who grinned sleepily at them. "Yeah, that's fine,"  
Brent affirmed, grimacing at his bandmates' infatuation.  
"'uv 'oo Peter Panda," Patrick murmured, blinking innocently up at Pete with clouded eyes. It was definitely fake, playing up to the attention, but it was ridiculously adorable and even Brent cooed a little.


End file.
